The Reawakening of Hermione Granger
by Hermione7931
Summary: After a streak of failed relationships that started in Seventh year with a certain Slytherin, Hermione decides to take the advice of her mysterious correspondent. Of course, the fact that he sounds EXACTLY like Malfoy MUST be a coincidence...
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Though stories usually end with a wedding and a kiss, this story starts with one. Or, to be more precise, the wedding and happily-ever-after of an ex-boyfriend to a close friend. Ouch.

Hermione lingered behind the tower of champagne glasses that the waiter had painstakingly stacked and tried to stay out of sight. Classical music played gracefully in the background, increasing her nervousness. For Merlin's sake, she felt like a hunted animal. She didn't grudge Viktor and Parvati's happiness, but it was precisely at these types of events that the parents of her friends would feel sorry for her single state and try to push her towards an available bachelor in the most glaringly obvious way. Yes, that means _you_, Mrs. Weasley.

She knew Ron's warm-hearted mother meant well, but nevertheless, she just wanted to scream. Yes, she might be single, yes she might not have a date, but that didn't mean she was going to make do with any namby-pamby snivelling idiot that approached her.

Speaking of the devil..."Erm, you're looking very pretty tonight."

Hermione raised her head suspiciously. A freckled-faced youth, who seemed to be in his fourth year at Hogwarts smiled nervously at her. _Seriously? _ She thought. _Molly Weasley has finally lost it. _Some might call her desperate, but she was certain she had never reached the point of dating guys a decade younger.

"Thanks," she said in a businesslike tone. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to-"

"You wanna dance, Hannah? I really like that song they're playing now," Freckle Boy said. Hermione closed her eyes in exasperation when his voice broke. True, she had just graduated Hogwarts seven years ago, but this boy was still in the midst of puberty. She sighed.

"My name is _Hermione_ and you can tell Mrs. Weasley thanks but no thanks. I don't go for minors almost a decade younger than me," Hermione said without a flicker of guilt as she turned away. She knew the boy would have been promised something along the lines of a home baked pie or two if he chatted her up. She knew Ron's mother was trying to make up for that failed relationship during Seventh year, when Ron had decided to abandon her for Lavender Brown. Who had a name like Lavender Brown? It's a color, not a name, and Hermione decided it would probably look like vomit mixed with purple glop.

Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Draco Malfoy's mocking sneer from the opposite end of the room. He fluttered his eyelashes at her, and she knew he had seen the entire humiliating experience. Why had he been invited? As far as she'd heard, he had been no close friend of the Bulgarian Quidditch player. In any case, she had no more patience after dealing with Mrs. Weasley's latest scheme.

"Sod off," she mouthed to him angrily, at the end of her rope. She was the only single woman in the reception party, pitying glances were being showered on her like nobody's business and the only guy who'd talked to her had been that fourteen year old.

He raised his eyebrows in reply. "Oooh. Touchy, Granger," he mouthed back mockingly.

"I'd like to propose a toast to the bride and groom," announced Viktor's best man, his fellow Catcher, Octavius. Hermione breathed a sigh of relief and turned away.

A hush fell across the room.

"I've known Viktor for twenty years now, ever since he stole my sand shovel and kicked down my sandcastle at the beach." Laughter rippled throughout the crowd and Viktor Krum smiled in embarrassment. "But ever since then, he has stood by me, when my mother got a stroke, when I couldn't decide what to do with my life. All I can say is, Parvati Patil, now Parvati Krum, has a wonderful husband and..."

He went on to describe the merits of the bride and groom while Hermione took out the magically reduced book in her clutch purse. She glanced around the room and saw that others were fiddling with their wine glasses or checking the time. Those ruder were whispering among themselves. Octavius Renaut had a reputation for being exceptionally long-winded.

With a shake, the heavy tome opened up and grew to full size. She flipped to her bookmarked page and continued to read. It was a book of fairy tales for wizard children, the Wizarding community's equivalent of Arabian Nights.

Ever since she'd been a little girl, she'd loved fairy tales. The way that anything was possible, there had been magic, and there had _always_ been a happily ever after, usually ending with a wedding.

Unfortunately, life had proved to be different. After attending Hogwarts, Hermione was more than aware there was magic in the world. But where were the happily ever afters? They seemed to only happen to her friends and never to her. Instead, she had gone from one failed relationship to another, always searching for that intimate connection that she had always read and dreamed about...

A feeling that someone was reading from behind her shoulder made her whip her head around. Somehow Malfoy had slithered around her to her table like the snake he was.

Determined to ignore him, she continued to read, but was frustrated when she found herself reading the same paragraph over and over again.

"You like reading about things you will never experience," a low voice remarked at her ear. She resisted the shivers running up and down her back at his closeness.

"At least I have hope," she retorted quietly. "I heard that little heiress you were dating dumped you, the oh-so-mighty Draco Malfoy, for a human journalist. How does it feel, to have a _Mudblood_ chosen over _you_?"

He chuckled softly behind her, his breath causing her hair to stir. "The bookworm has finally unsheathed her claws. You know, if you'd been like this at Hogwarts, you might have actually had a chance to be noticed by me."

Her eyes narrowed. "As if I would _ever_ want your attention. You and your warped pureblooded beliefs disgust me."

Even after the war had ended, the Malfoy family had somehow escaped a sentence to Azkaban. They would never be part of the most elite circles in Wizarding society, but they were nowhere near being persecuted. And they still held on to the old beliefs that almost brought about their end.

"Ah, but I'm _me_." Without turning around, she knew that he was smirking in that way he always did. She remembered a time long ago, almost a different life ago, when that smirk had curved and softened into an almost-smile while he looked at her while they were...

She shook her head. The past was past, and the things he had done were unforgiveable. "Your arrogance has only grown exponentially throughout the years. I assume the only reason you were invited to this wedding is because you're a groupie of Viktor's?"

"It's not arrogance if it's true. And besides, Viktor and I are friends. Which is more than I can say about you and Weaselface. Tell me, how long did it take _that_ relationship to degenerate?"

Hermione found herself standing up and screaming at him before she could stop herself. "How dare you, you bastard! When it was you that – " Her hand connected with his cheek hard.

Through the haze obscuring her vision, Hermione barely noticed the people that were now gaping at her. Embarrassment caused her cheeks to flare redder than they already were. She quickly scooped up her book and left, everyone's widened eyes following her movements and Draco Malfoy's caustic smile lingering.

The last thing she heard as she left the reception hall was Freckle Boy's snickering as he dug into his apple and blackberry cake.

#

Draco touched this reddened cheek as he stared after her. He could remember another time when she had hit him like this, only that time, she had done so playfully, and with little real force. He had caught her hands, and teased her book away from her, making her laugh...

It was so long ago, that he should have forgotten everything. He, the man whom every woman wanted, had had more relationships than he could count. There should have been so many memories, so many other women, that he should have forgotten her name, the way she laughed, everything.

And yet, as the years passed, these memories only seemed to grow stronger, as if fuelled by the impossibility of what he had truly wanted.

Draco spotted a tall, leggy brunette dressed in a short club dress that only covered her the top 2 inches of her thighs. Wrapping an arm around her, he knew deep inside him that _this_ brunette, at least, would never deny him anything.

Unlike Hermione...

#

The bride gasped. "It's happening, Viktor, it's happening _now_! Did you see the unmistakeable tension between the two?"

"What?" Viktor said absently, thinking about the wedding night.

"What I predicted during Divination class in Seventh Year! Of course, nobody believed me _then_," Parvati mumbled.

"And what is that, love?"

"That the bookworm of Gryffindor and the dragon of Slytherin would one day fall deeply and irrevocably for one another."

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><p>Please review, and tell me what you think so far!<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

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><p>"And then, I just got up and left," finished Hermione, sighing in relief after recounting her tale of woe.<p>

Ginny choked and took a hasty sip of tea. "So after a conversations fraught with suggestive double entendres and –"

"_There were no double entendres!_"

"With Draco Malfoy, you made your dramatic exit," Ginny continued, not to be shaken, " and Parvati _thanked_ you for storming out?"

"Well, I apologized afterwards, and she told me not to worry about it, since she thought the party was getting a bit dull, anyways."

Ginny didn't seem to listen, being too deep in thought. "I can't believe you ran into him there...he's usually too uppity to go to a Gryffindor wedding. Besides, he is _a man with whom you do not screw_," Ginny muttered. After a thoughtful pause she looked up. "Nope, he's a man you just _screw_."

"Ginerva Molly Weasley!"

"What? I'm just saying it like it is..." But Hermione could see the sadness in her eyes, and knew that this was just a ruse to cheer her up.

She closed her eyes. Of all her friends, only Ginny knew everything had happened in her seventh year at Hogwarts. Not even Ron or Harry could understand the devastation she had felt in those last few months. Especially not Ron...And yet, she found herself thinking about how Draco Malfoy had grown taller and filled out. With his broad shoulders and lean muscles, many a woman at the reception had looked at him longingly. Even...herself? _No! Bad Hermione!_

"No matter," Hermione said briskly, concealing all emotion. "I'll get on with my life and so will he. In fact, he's probably sneaking out of a paramour's bedroom right now before the enraged husband arrives."

Ginny raised her eyebrows. "Harsh."

"Or maybe he's sneaked out of more than one bedroom last night."

"_Kinky_."

Hermione smiled grimly and strode towards her own room. With her hand at the knob, she guiltily realized she hadn't asked Ginny how her day had been.

"How was your date last night?" she called into the living room.

The redhead didn't turn around but Hermione saw her shoulders tense. "It went fine...until Pots and Pans clanged down in the table right next to us," she replied in an even tone.

Pots and Pans was what Ginny called Harry and Pansy Parkinson. Harry had told her he wanted to go discover himself before getting into a serious relationship. She took that to mean he wanted to ogle other women's backsides without worrying about an angry girlfriend.

And Ginny could live with that. She had her own life, and perhaps she wanted to look at the other fish in the sea as well.

Hermione smiled ruefully at her best friend. "What a pair we make," she said, shaking her head.

Ginny forced her lips to curve up like they usually did. "We need to get out more."

"Definitely."

Once in her room, Hermione opened her book her fairy tales, flipping to the page she had been reading last. Surprisingly, the story had ended in mid-sentence, with no words upon the newly blank page. Confused, she flipped a couple of pages, then to the back of the book. Nothing.

Suddenly, words began to appear, in flowing script that resembled wisps of smoke.

"Create...your own...story...," Hermione read as the letters came up. "Write about...your...life as...you wish it...to be."

Well, this _was_ a magical book. So she gladly rummaged for her nib and ink, and began to write.

_Once upon a time, there was an extremely talented woman named _

Hermione paused. Hmm...Jane would make a good name, after all, it was her own middle name.

_Jane, who was the brightest witch of her time. She had her own extensive library, full of books she could read at any time and the knowledge of several lifetimes. She dreamed one day of finding a cure for Squarton's Rash (an incurable disease) and of finally overcoming her fear of heights to fly like the birds she envied. She - _

**THIS STORY IS THE MOST PATHETIC AND SAPPY THING I HAVE EVER READ**

Hermione started and stared. Was the book telling her this? Upon closer inspection, she confirmed that the writing style was very different and –

**STOP BEFORE YOU RUIN MY NON-EXISTENT FAITH IN THE WORLD.**

_Who are you?_ Hermione scribbled furiously.

**A critic. If you can't take it, just stop writing right now.**

_And what is wrong with the beginning of my story?_ Hermione huffed.

**It's too unrealistic. What kind of sod actually** _wants_ to do these things? This Jane has no life. She probably hasn't been laid in decades.

Hermione gasped and wrote hastily. _Jane has goals, aspirations that could benefit the world. The loss of her love life means nothing to her_. Which...wasn't entirely true.

**PFFFTTT. That's what she tells herself so she can sleep at night. But come now, are you expecting me to believe there's not ONE bloke in her entire sordid life that she's interested in?**

_Not. One._

**Then she's a liar, to herself, and to others.**

Hermione gasped in outrage. _Well, oh-great-master, please KINDLY tell the storyteller how her own character should act!_

**Plain Jane should kick back in a red minidress and pour herself a glass of champagne. Then get tipsy, flirt outrageously with all the men within close vicinity and proceed from there.**

Hermione's eyes widened. _Maybe "Plain Jane" is the way she is for a reason. Maybe she truly considers reading and literary pursuits more interesting than what you mentioned._

The page stopped filling up with words for a moment. Was her correspondent leaving, or just deliberating before creating a response? Just as she was about to slam the book closed and hide it in her closet before checking herself for a fever, letters in that bold hand began to appear again.

**THERE IS NO WAY she can find it more interesting. NO WAY IN BLOODY HELL. But either way, she should give my way a try and see how she likes it first before making up her mind so soon. You women are too stubborn.**

Hermione made a face at the page. _Well, men believe they're always right, which is the greater fault, in my opinion._

**...How did you know I was a man?**

_You sound like a bloke I used to know. He always used to say that._

**Well, Jane, tell that bloke of yours he is the second most intelligent wizard on the face of this earth.**

_Oh, well then, who would be the first?_

**Me, of course.**

That was it. Hermione slammed the book closed, vowing never to open it again. She must have been deluded, having a conversation with a book. Stowing it deep in the recesses of her closet, she went to the living room to tell Ginny about it. She was horrified that she had actually gotten upset over the things a _book_ had told her.

She was even more horrified to discover she thought that maybe Jane _was_ a bit of a party pooper.

#

Draco stared down at his tome of _Wizardry and Accounting_. He couldn't believe that he had spent the whole board meeting of his company conversing with a book related to business and Arithmancy. Especially since the whole future of the company rested on the few weeks to come.

_That's it. I've finally gone mad_. He shook his head and flipped back a couple of pages, to where their conversation had started. Shaking his head, he scoffed. Plain Jane indeed. She'd probably never stumbled through a conversation with a bloke before breaking into a diatribe about philosophical rashes or whatnot.

Shaking his head again, he regarded the bemused stares of his right hand man and best friend, Blaise and his secretary, Alina. "What?" he said rather belligerently, aware he was only making the situation worse.

He tightened his hold on the book. He'd bring it to every meeting to amuse himself.

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><p>Please review and tell me what you think! Feedback is always welcome! :)<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

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><p>Hermione hummed as she organized the papers on her boss's desk. Realising she needed some more relevant information and signatures before she could file a certain document, she set out to find John, the Chief Healer assigned to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.<p>

Hermione had been working for this Department of the Ministry for several years now. After being highly recommended by an older friend, she was hired immediately out of Hogwarts and was gradually able to work her way up to the coveted position of the Chief Healer's aide.

She spotted John several feet away, chatting with some Aurors that he had just healed. His chestnut curls gleamed in the light from the open window and his features were warm with compassion. He was an extraordinarily handsome man, one that many women in the department lusted after without hope.

Hermione knew better than to get her hopes up, however. She knew that while she was no troll, she wasn't well, part Veela either, like Fleur Delacour. While her bushy brown hair had eventually turned into rich mahogany curls lit with amber, and her teeth had evened out, her features were nothing special. Unlike John, who could have jumped into a Hollywood movie without causing any undue concern. In fact, some said that he was so handsome, he _had_ to be part Vee –

"Frog-faced Mudblood lusting after her supposed 'knight in shining armour'? How cliché." A voice drawled from behind her, causing her to whirl around.

"Malfoy! What are you doing here?" She had never seen him in all the years she had worked at the Department, something she'd taken for granted until this day.

He shrugged. "Given as I'm an essential part of this department, it seems more fitting I should be asking you that."

Hermione's eyes narrowed, then widened as she realised... "Are you _stalking_ me? I've never heard of you, and I've been working here for over five years!"

He smirked. "As if I'd stalk _you. _Of course you underpaid, unimportant floor sweepers and such wouldn't know. My company produces and supplies magical weapons and transportation for the Department. Now, run along, before you get sacked for chitchatting with your betters."

"_I_ am the Chief Healer's aide. And I hardly think that _floor sweepers_ are necessary, given as there are _wizards_ that can use something called _magic_ to do these things."

"Was that a pitiful attempt at sarcasm? Interesting how the little goody-two-shoes finally plucks up the nerve to talk back."

Hermione remembered him saying that during their first meeting at _their_ secret place, years ago. She fought the lingering memories to say, "Well, unlike others that have things handed to them on silver platters with platinum tableware, I have to work for my living instead of wasting time talking with you." She turned, somehow feeling both nervous and relieved at the same time.

"Ah, not yet, Mudblood. Your knight in shining armour needs you," she heard him mutter behind her.

And sure enough, John was heading towards them with a heart-stopping grin on his face.

"If he's my knight in shining armour, you'd be the villain in the fairy tale," she hissed back.

His face was expressionless. "Seeing as how naively you believe in these impossible, _made-up_ stories, of course. However, might I point out that shining armour indicates that this knight hasn't fought any battles thus far, and so has not proven himself at all?"

"Malfoy, what are you trying to say? Just spit it out already and leave me alone."

He leaned in closer and she fought the urge to move away. Being this close to him made her feel things that she thought had died long ago.

"Maybe you should be looking for one with tarnished, broken armour, one that has fought and won battles, with the armour as evidence of that...one that's worthy of the princess."

"A...a princess?" _Me?_ Hermione thought with disbelief.

He immediately straightened up, his face hardening again. "Of course, I don't mean _you_. I meant for actual women in general, not wannabes."

"Malfoy, I correct myself. You're the villain that'll end up _dead_, slain by the princess 'wannabe' at the end of the story."

A warm chuckled filled the air. "Who's dying?" John said, as he approached.

Hermione turned and pasted a strained smile on her face. "Nothing, Mr. Malfoy was just leaving. If you could just sign these for – "

"It's been a long time, Smith. I decided to bring the parcel that you requested personally, to see how you were doing," Draco's smooth voice cut in.

The Chief Healer smiled good naturedly. "I didn't know you and my aide were already acquainted."

Draco forced a smiled on his face, something he had done so many times that it looked completely natural and genuine. "Hermione and I are...old acquaintances from Hogwarts."

Hermione watched him hand over the small, unassuming parcel. _He said my name. Not Granger. Not Mudblood. Not Filth, not Vermin, not anything like that. He called me Hermione for the first time in years._ She didn't know how she felt about that.

Luckily, the Chief Healer smiled that charming smile of his again before signing her papers and allowing her to escape.

#

Draco waited for her to leave before turning to talk to the Healer. As it was, he couldn't help sneaking another glance at her from behind. It wasn't that she had changed much over the years; in fact, she'd probably looked just like this while they were in school together. And yet...there was something different about her. He grudgingly admitted to himself that she wasn't as vile and unappealing as he'd made her out to be.

"Thanks so much, I haven't been able to get my hands on these anywhere I looked," John breathed.

Draco shrugged, bored. "It's not much. I made some modifications to the original device. As you can see, I've added a pump to make the dispensing of potion more convenient, and I've changed the original potion to make it more powerful. One puff should last you around four hours."

The Chief Healer smiled slowly. "You've done it again, old friend. You present an uncaring, insouciant mask to everyone around you, but you've proven yourself again and again to be one of the most intelligent engineers of magical devices of our time."

He was unfazed by the compliment. Why should he take notice? It wasn't as if he didn't receive this type of treatment on a daily basis. Women threw themselves at him...or rather, the Malfoy name and his hard-earned fortune, comparing him to all sorts of things: a Greek sculpture, a god, a warrior angel, a king. Although a certain woman in his past had compared him to Narcissus, and not in a complementary way.

"What are you going to do with it?" he asked curiously. So far, he knew of only two types of people that used this device on a regular basis: criminals that eventually ended up in Azkaban, and soon-to-be criminals that eventually ended up in Azkaban. But John was an old friend, one who had helped him in times past, and he was sure he wouldn't use it to do harm.

"Oh, this and that. It's more of a precaution than anything else," was the Healer's vague response.

Draco soon took his leave and flooed to Malfoy Manor, collapsing onto the settee. Weariness permeated throughout his body. _Nobody knows how much being a Malfoy is a curse_, he thought to himself. But he had to see this through. He'd be damned before giving up on his company and going to his father for money. _His_ company that he had built from the bottom up, that he had spent years of careful planning to create.

His eye caught on the corner of his accounting book. He knew something that would alleviate this unrelenting tension and amuse him for the next few minutes. He flipped to the page he had last written in and grabbed a nib from his desk.

**Hello, Plain Jane.**

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><p><strong>Well, that's it for the third chapter of this story! Feedback is always welcome, and is much needed :)<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

The first time she'd encountered _him_ at night there was in the Restricted section of the library.

It'd been right before the OWLS exam and Hermione had needed to do some cross-referencing before she could confirm everything was right. It'd was just her luck that the book she'd been seeking was in the Restricted section, as it also contained some dangerous insight on the Unforgiveable Curses.

So what was she to do? Fail her OWLS because she'd been too frightened to sneak in? Of course not! She'd prefer a detention any day of the week.

And that was exactly how Hermione ended up "borrowing" Harry's invisibility cloak as she hurried through the maze of bookshelves in the moonlit library. After unravelling the protective and complex spells that managed to keep most students out, she stepped out of the cloak and gazed in wonder.

The cozy nook she was in was deeply disorganized. Books were scattered everywhere; bookshelves were missing shelves and empty. Her gaze fell upon a small glow coming from the hallway directly in front of her which led to what looked like the place to study.

Her heart pounding with the risk of getting caught, Hermione silently crept forward and was amazed to see that the glow was actually a warm fire flickering in a stone fireplace. A comfortable-looking armchair was perched in front of the grate, with a small side table perfect for placing books on. Hurrying back to the main room, she grabbed the book she needed and hurried back, sinking into the warm leather chair.

It seemed she'd only been reading for a few minutes before she heard a shocked exclamation from behind her. Heart pounding, she started up, turning towards the sound.

Malfoy stood right behind her chair, looking straight down at her, his eyes cold with anger. Their noses were almost touching and Hermione could feel his breath against her cheek.

Any other girl in Hogwarts, and perhaps, all of the U.K. would've felt as if they'd been blessed by fate and taken advantage of the situation.

Hermione, on the other hand, let out an uncharacteristic shriek and slammed her book into his face with unchecked force.

"Damn it woman! Was that punch in Third Year not enough for you?" he yelled in rage as he straightened again, his nose starting to bleed and an eye turning purple.

"Why are _you_ here, Malfoy? This is the Restricted section! It's against the rules!"

"I'm not the goody goody Gryffindor, am I? I'm not the one that's staying up past bedtime to sneak in here to read porn and Merlin knows what!"

Hermione gasped in outrage. "_I_ am not sexually desperate enough to read that..that junk! That's why _you're_ here, isn't it? I should have known that you would try to supplement your...sparse knowledge of the opposite sex with that!"

"Are you calling me a dud?" To her surprise, he laughed. Not in a friendly way, either. "Ask _any_ girl you see in the hallway, and they will tell you I'm – "

"Frankly, I don't care, Malfoy," Hermione interrupted, picking up her things and stuffing them carelessly into her bag. _This was a mistake_, she thought. _I'm paying for being careless enough to stay more than a minute in this place_. She frantically cast a glance around, searching for the cloak.

"Looking for this, Granger?" Malfoy sneered, as he held it up with a finger.

"Give me that!" She swiped at it.

"I just did a Healing spell on myself, don't you dare break my nose again!"

"Here's the deal: I leave you unharmed and you give me that back."

He smirked. She, in turn, was struck by the expression on his face.

"You don't want anyone to find out you've been here, do you, Mudblood? It's the reason Firves was expelled last year. And I'd bet you would do just about _anything_ not to go the same way."

Hermione froze for a long moment. "What...what do you want, Malfoy?" She'd heard about George Firves, but she'd also heard he'd trashed a major portion of the library. Whereas she'd wanted to just breeze in and out with the book. She was pretty sure she wouldn't be expelled...but with a little less than a year until her graduation, would she really risk that?

He leaned in. "You will meet me here at midnight, every Monday. Don't get caught."

He couldn't want her to...He didn't mean that she'd have to..."And what precisely am I to do? Cater to you while you read your porn?"

She saw a flash of irritation in his eyes, and he took a deep breath as if to calm himself. "You shall do anything I ask of you."

Her eyes widened in shock.

He read her expression with amusement before smirking again. "You actually think I'd make a move on _you_. How pathetic. You poor poor Mudblood, suffering from unrequited – "

Hermione had had enough. She snatched the cloak out of his hands and marched off into her dorm, swearing never to return, consequences be damned. Of course, little did she know that the next Monday, at midnight, she would meet him there. Again...and again...and again...without fail.

#

Hermione closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. She had the beginnings of a headache. Meeting him at the wedding and then the Ministry after years of not seeing him had brought all the unwelcome memories back.

Sighing, she reached for her book of fairy tales, unshrank it, and flipped to her last page. To her delight, her correspondent had written something already. This should take her mind off her past.

**Hello, Plain Jane.**

_Hello, Misogynistic Man with Zero Self-Confidence._ Hermione smirked. Who was on the offence now?

**I have every bit of self-confidence anybody could possibly possess. In fact, ask any girl off the street and they will tell you**

Hermione stared with a growing sense of unease. These words were too close, too much like what _he_ would say.

_I don't care what they tell me. I've personal experience and no need for your made-up tales. _Hermione interrupted, scribbling furiously.

**Well, then, since you've made up your mind already, let's talk about you now. There has to be a bloke in your life, no matter how much you deny it.**

_Oh yes, I'm having a torrid affaire with the mailman. _Hermione wrote sarcastically. _We meet up every Sunday when his wife's out of town to visit her mother._

**If only wizards actually had mailmen instead of owls. Isn't there one REAL bloke you feel a little smidgen of something for in your cold, cold heart?**

Hermione paused. She _had_ been noticing John more and more lately...in fact, she'd wanted to catch his eye as more than his assistant from time to time. And wasn't this self-proclaimed womanizer the best source of advice there could be? She could always choose not to take it, and he didn't know who she was.

_Fine. His name is...let's call him Sebastian._

#

Draco raised his eyebrows at that. _Sebastian_? He didn't know of any bloke in the Wizarding World that went by that name.

**Well, then. I was right, wasn't I?**

When his correspondent wrote back, he couldn't spot himself from smiling at the obvious irritation in her words.

_I see we've regressed to being First Years again. In any case, how would Jane go around to getting Sebastian's attention?_

Draco considered that for a bit. Dressing scantily was a surefire way, but he himself was put off by girls who came up to him out of nowhere clad only in a t-shirt that passed as a mini minidress and who giggled excessively.

**Dress in clothes that are not baggy, dowdy, hand-me-downs from your grandmother. In other words, don't wear anything in your wardrobe.**

_Ha ha. Very funny. For your information, my wardrobe is sophisticated and extremely suitable for anything, so move on, please._

Draco raised his eyebrows. _Touchy._

**Well, then, Rule #2: Do not act like Plain Jane. Be adventurous, be exciting. Many men don't want to be henpecked even before they enter that dreaded state of matrimony.**

_That's it?_

**Rule #3: Don't be shy. Flirt outrageously with every man in sight. If he's suitably interested, he will no doubt voice some kind of objection.**

Draco considered that. Maybe that wasn't the best piece of advice. His past girlfriends had all tried to play the "make him jealous" card, having affaires with other men or even his friends. He'd just broken the relationship without hesitation. And those friends were no longer his friends.

**Rule #4: Do not speak of "Plain Jane" scholarly matters unless this man is a professor. Some men are insecure and will be put off by more intelligent women.**

_Pfft. Tell me about it. So, four rules to remember. This should be a snap._

Draco caught himself smiling again and felt a surge of panic. The only other time in his life when he'd felt this...light-hearted and carefree eventually led him to destruction after everything collapsed around him. He remembered smiling just like this when _she_ had been lecturing him on his ways with women, never realising that there was only one that entranced him for that moment.

**Tell me how it goes afterwards, Jane. This should be...interesting.**

_Is that your way of saying I'll fail? How assuring._

**No, it's my way of saying good luck, even knowing that there is a 99.999999% chance you will not succeed.**

_If my name is Jane, it's only fair that you tell me yours. After giving me all this "valuable" advice, surely you should provide some kind of identification._

He could tell her to call him Dragon, but that was too obvious. Besides, it sounded too common and beast-like, something he would never aspire to. Lucius was his middle name, and he hated sharing his father's name with a passion. Hmm...

But before he could make something up...

_You know what? I'll just call you Casanova. For all I know, you could be him._

Draco slammed the book closed with horror as he realised he was doing that forbidden thing: smiling again.

* * *

><p>That's it for chapter four :) I'm trying to update more often, so expect chapters to come up sooner<p>

ps. A review would make me very happy *nudge nudge wink wink* ;)


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Hermione tugged at the neckline of her top, desperately trying to pull it up without exposing her midriff. She might have lied a teensy bit when she told Casanova she had something suitable for everything in her wardrobe.

So this morning, she'd snuck into Ginny's room and made away with one of the most decent-looking tops she could find. She then put on a flirty skirt and went to view herself in the enchanted mirror they kept in the bathroom.

She had gaped in slack-jawed horror.

"_Someone's_ feelin' naughty," teased the Voice in the mirror. The pitch and sound of the Voice changed according to the occasion, and this time, it was a deep, seductive baritone that made Hermione even more unsettled.

She took a deep breath to calm herself, ignoring the fact that it made her chest even more visible through the plunging neckline, and stomped out to face the world.

Who would have known Ginny kept things like _these_ in her closet? The neckline reached her waist, for Merlin's sake! And this was one of the tamer tops!

Now she was seated demurely at her desk, fiddling with her wand nervously until John arrived.

And when he did, he walked right past her as if he couldn't spare her a single glance.

"Erm, John! We need to go over the schedule for next month's meeting together," she called out nervously, her stomach twisting into knots. _Damn him for talking me into this..._

"Mmm...one second, Hermione. Let me just – " He finally turned around, and his eyes popped wide open as he gaped at her. He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Say, uh, is there something different about you?"

Hermione tried out a smile, even though she wanted to run screaming from the room and drink a memory-wiping potion. "Oh, I just decided to try on something new...do you like it?"

"YES...uh, that is, no,...I mean, uh, you look quite nice," he murmured, still looking at her.

Her face flushed uncomfortably. This was what she wanted...wasn't it?

"You were talking about that schedule...?" he prompted, and Hermione fell into her businesslike self once again. After an hour or so of discussing the topics that'd be brought up and the seating arrangement, John rose from his seat beside her, looking down at her with a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Are you doing anything Saturday night?" he asked abruptly.

"No. Why?"

"Why don't we go get dinner somewhere together? You know, just to know each other better?"

Hermione frowned with confusion. "We've been working together _five years_, John. I'd think we knew each other quite well. Is there something top-secret you need to discuss with me?"

John sighed. It was times like these that he believed that Hermione Granger wasn't _always_ the smartest witch of her time.

"What I mean was, do you want to go on a date with me?"

"Oh!" Hermione's face reddened. Considering Ron had been her first, last, and only boyfriend, and was too thick-headed to invite her to a _date_ of all things, she'd really no idea what John had been hinting at. "Of course! That would be lovely."

"I'll pick you up then...at seven? I know a great new place that opened up a few blocks from here and I've heard their food is divine."

Hermione forced a smile on her face. "Great! It's a date!"

#

When she got home, she rushed past Ginny without a word, heading into her room to start writing in her book.

Ginny slouched in her chair. "I lost my best friend to a _book_," she muttered.

#

_Are you there, Casanova?_

Draco started at the flowing hand that suddenly appeared in the corner of his spreadsheet. He caught Blaise's eye from across the table, and his best friend kicked him under the table, telling him to listen.

His hand itched to pick up his quill to write back, but he knew Blaise was right. His company was in dire straits at the moment, and the last thing it needed was a leader that daydreamed through all the strategic meetings.

After the war, his father had pulled all the strings he had and somehow, very narrowly, missed having to go to Azkaban. After waiting for a select time, Lucius had decided that he'd waited enough, that even though the Dark Lord might be defeated, there was no reason not to start preparing for the next Dark Lord.

Draco had refused to help his fathers with his plans, believing that the past was past. He wasn't eager to repeat the mistakes that had gotten over thousands of wizards and witches dead. Slytherin he may be, but murderer he was not.

Lucius had been furious. Enraged. He'd cut his own son from his will, casting him out into the world with little besides a few Galleons in his pocket, a broom, his owl, and a few necessities. Little did he suspect that his son would become one of the best engineers of the time.

After a success with an improved sketch of a magical weapon, Draco had immediately got hired into one of the engineering firms in the Wizarding community. Working his way up, he'd finally split from the company and created his own. Black Int'l, it was called, as he didn't want to put his own family name.

However, this success came with a price. Lucius had learned of Draco's talent and business acumen, and had decided to wait until the company began to expand, which meant borrowing more money to buy more materials, hire more workers. Then, he'd begun to buy out more and more shares of the company.

By the time he discovered this, Draco knew that there was no money to be had to buy those shares back. Due to their expansion, they were in debt by a fair amount. And his father had the unlimited funds from the Malfoy fortune.

So what to do? Beg his father to stop destroying the most worthy thing he had ever created? Or let it slip between his fingers into his father's greedy and malicious clutches?

Neither option was acceptable.

"How about your mother's family, Draco? Would the Blacks be willing to back us until we're in a stable financial situation?"

"I doubt it," he replied honestly. "After Bellatrix died, they've been recluses. Nobody's seen or heard from them for years."

His secretary, Alina, sighed. "It seems we're backed into a corner. The only thing that I see we can do is make one last attempt at pumping money into this company."

"_How?_" Blaise said with irritation. "If we knew that, this company would be fixed and generating profit by now!"

Alina gave Blaise a very unbusinesslike shove. "I suggest we create one last magical device. The most ingenious, lightweight and yet, effective thing ever to be created. If we go out, we go out with a _bang_!"

"Do you have any idea how _vague_ that sounds?" Draco let his head fall onto his arms. "It would also mean going deeper into debt."

"Yes, but to _get out_ of debt," Alina said, giving him a superior look.

"How do you put up with her?" Draco asked his best friend.

"Alrighty! Meeting dismissed, or adjourned, or whatever! Go think up some wacky and awesome ideas and then share them at the next meeting!" Alina announced, thumping her fist on the table.

Everyone pushed back from their chairs and filed through the door, under Alina's militant command over them. _That woman..._ Draco shook his head.

He was alone at the table...which meant that he could finally talk to Jane. He felt a strange sense of excitement. Somehow, talking to her made him feel less tired...younger, and more carefree. As if he didn't have the future or his entire company resting on his shoulders.

**Your Casanova's here, and ready to service you.**

He chuckled. What would be her reaction? Surely she'd make some big fuss over the innuendo...or would she even understand?

_I'll be the one in the dominatrix outfit._

His mouth gaped open. WHAT?

**There's something...different about you.**

_That's what Sebastian said about me too! And then, he asked me on a date! It worked, and I can't believe it!_

**Don't underestimate what a couple inches of cleavage can do for you.**

_Are you implying that's why he asked me? Not for my personality, not for anything else?_

**You're PLAIN JANE. Until you decided to go through this miraculous transformation, he had no idea you existed, much less had a personality.**

_Hmph. We'll discuss this again later. In any case, how should I behave on the date? Besides being exciting, adventurous, not stuffy, blah blah blah..._

**You can't seem too interested. Aside from henpecking, this is one of those things men really detest. No smothering him, asking him when the next date will be...He'll get panicked and kick up his heels and RUN.**

_And...that is what YOU would do in this situation?_

**Ah, but **_**I**_** can hold my own against any woman. That is why **_**I**_** am Casanova.**

_You know, I read up on this._

He blinked, surprised at the sudden change in subject.

_This magical link that exists between us._

**You mean, writing in this book?**

_Exactly! I write in my book of fairy tales and somehow your words show up on the pages when you respond. Your book probably works the same way. But the thing is, _WHY _is there is link between our two books?_

Draco stared. Something was off. Didn't Hermione have a book of fairy tales at the wedding? He shook his head. He was probably just tired from staying up all last night.

**I have no idea. I don't care to know. I just know you amuse me.**

_You're not even curious? Anyways, it's not as if I'd asked you who you really were._

**If you want more of my advice, you will NEVER ask me that question. Ever.**

How could he tell her who he was, and destroy this...this...whatever it was. For once, he didn't have to pretend to be somebody he wasn't, because she didn't know who he was in the first place.

_In return, you must never ask after my identity._

**Agreed.**

_Fine, then._

**You're pouting, aren't you?**

_No._

**Yes, you are.**

_No, I'm not._

Draco sighed. There were things to do, his company could be lost at any moment, and he was arguing with juvenile, Plain Jane?

**Tell me how the date goes. With this new front that you put up for him, I think Sebastian might have his hands full.**

_You have no idea._

* * *

><p>And the story starts to kick off into the fun part :) Who knows what Hermione's going to do?<p> 


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

John cursed as he stumbled over an old box in the storage room of the Ministry. There was no way he was going to find what he needed in here, but it was his only choice.

To steal current maps of Azkaban would get everyone's attention, including the Aurors.

And John couldn't risk that, not with what he was going to do.

He couldn't fail his father, the one who'd taken care of him when his mother had decided to go off with another man. Sure, his father might have made a mistake in getting caught, but John was willing to overlook that.

There are always sides to a war. Neither side of this war was moral. And only the winning side would be considered "right". It was through no fault of his father's that he'd been on the losing team...it was all because of Potter and his cronies.

Hermione among them.

He'd bided his time, making sure that no suspicion ever fell upon him. And now, when the conditions were just right, all the pieces were in play. He was a chess Grand Master, and to him, others were no more than pawns that could be sacrificed to reach his final goal.

#

Hermione started as an owl began tapping at her bedroom window. Opening it, she let it in and took the scroll that was clasped in its claws.

John's handwriting filled the page. _I will arrive at precisely 6:30 PM on Saturday night to escort a particularly beautiful woman to dinner at the Savoy. Will that be alright?_

Hermione grinned. The Savoy was a new restaurant that had just opened in town. It was an undeniably high class place, with snobby maitre d's and French waitresses that all wore identical uniforms. The food was reputed to be exquisite, and she'd wanted to go for quite some time now.

But...it didn't sound like the ideal location to show that she was "exciting" and "fun" and "adventurous". This first date had to be something John would always remember.

She grabbed another piece of parchment. _I have a better idea. How about we go to the Stripped Wand for dinner and drinks? I've heard it has a very nice atmosphere._

The Stripped Wand, with its decidedly suggestive name, was almost the equivalent of...a strip club in the Wizarding community. Its reputation was infamous and Hermione had heard many appreciative comments about it from Aurors at the Ministry.

In any case, a date was a date was a date. No matter where it was. She might as well make it more interesting...

#

Little did Hermione know, at the same moment she'd received her message, Ginny was going through the worse nervous breakdown of her life.

She shouldn't have done it. She really shouldn't have. But after seeing how unhappy her best friend had been, how couldn't she?

The charm was easy enough to get, but placing it in Hermione's book of fairy tales was much more tricky.

Yes, the Amorivus charm was supposed to somehow connect Hermione to her one true love, but that "one true love" wasn't supposed to be such a bad influence on her!

Borrowing the most risqué outfits from Ginny's closet. Going to a _strip club_ of all places for her first date! WHAT WAS THIS?

There was also the worrying fact that this stranger had responded to Hermione, was communicating with her. From what Ginny understood, the charm was one-sided, allowing only the bearer to somehow sense their "fated one".

This "Casanova" wasn't supposed to be able to respond back. _Unless..._

Her eyes snapped wide open. "_Shit. Shitshitshit,"_ she gasped. "This was never supposed to happen this way."

#

That Saturday evening, Hermione was in the super-anxiety mode she usually reserved for exams or completing an important project on time.

"This was a terrible idea, why did I do that, _why_?" she moaned as she clutched her forehead.

Ginny tweaked the small black dress she had forced Hermione to wear. "Just don't start talking about your latest study on the effects of magic on Squibs and you'll do fine." She stood back and observed her friend with a critical eye. "You look even more gorgeous than usual," she exclaimed happily. "John won't be able to take his eyes off you."

Hermione frowned. "You sound off today. Will you be alright on your own?"

Ginny evaded eye contact, and her suspicions grew. Something was up here. "Sure. Just...probably a cold or something."

She was just about to insist on staying home with her when her date flooed in from the fireplace.

"Go, go," Ginny insisted, shooing her away, and she relented.

She joined John in the fireplace and the next thing she knew, she was standing in the old ashes of a noisy bar.

"Find us a seat and I'll get our drinks!" he shouted over the meowing sounds coming from some drunken, scantily clad witches in the corner. Even as he moved towards the bar, his eyes roved over her body with unmistakeable appreciation.

"Alright!" she screamed back, just wishing he would turn around already and stop ogling her. _No, Hermione! You're supposed to _like_ it when he ogles you!_

She tried to work her way through the crowd to get to an empty corner table. She tried to avoid brushing against so many men, but under the circumstances, it was inevitable.

"Nice ass," she heard someone comment from behind her.

_Don't hex him. Don't hex him, Hermione. He's not worth ruining this date. _She sank down into the seat and took a deep breath.

And then, disaster struck.

You see, the owner of this particular club also worked as the bartender. And it so happened that Ernesto (the bartender) was a fish enthusiast.

Ginger, his faithful goldfish rested in a fish tank by his side, on the left side of the bar. Regular customers knew how much Ernesto prized his beloved Gingy. And since Ernesto was a 6 foot 5 heavyweight wrestler with anger issues, nobody dared to even breathe on the fish tank. Ernesto was a man _with whom one did not fuck_.

Too bad John didn't know that. It's also too bad that right before reaching the bar, he tripped on an outstretched foot, knocking someone's elbow in the process. That man's elbow smashed into the counter, which caused a glass of wine to spill onto a woman's dress, which caused her to jump up and shriek, startling her date, who dropped his drink into the fish tank.

And then, silence.

Gradually, the roar of a very angry Ernesto filled the room, startling in his rage. His maddened gaze slowly travelled down the path of destruction until it locked onto John, who gulped. "Uh oh," he whispered...

Pandemonium reigned. "BAR FIGGGHHHHTTTTT!" hollered someone from the back, and it seemed every man who had come to the bar for a bit of excitement jumped into the fray.

"Take that! You slept with my wife!"

"You broke my sister's heart!"

"Yeah, well, YOU STOLE MY TWINKIE!"

Hermione gaped. This was the first bar fight she'd ever been in, not to mention her first _bar_, and John was in the middle of all that?

She tried slipping around several bodies but was pushed towards the back door. When a man bumped into her, she fell out of the building into the alley behind.

Scrambling back up, she noticed a flash of red. A beautiful woman dressed in a low-cut red club dress was draped into her date's arms, swooning. Hermione's eyes followed the man's arms up to his face...

Draco Malfoy. Here? In this low class and common bar?

For some reason, she couldn't stop staring. His grey eyes locked with hers so directly that she fought the urge to step back. And it was as if those long seven years had melted away, as if the obstacles of her Mudblood state and his arrogance had disappeared. She'd only felt like this one other time in her life, and that had been their second last meeting in the Restricted section of the library.

Hermione felt alive. _Really_ alive. There was a sense of exhilaration, or excitement, that nothing else had ever incited.

But all too soon, she heard John calling out her name in desperation, breaking the intensity of the encounter.

She strode back in with confidence, taking her wand out of her purse.

With a few casual _stupefys, _she incapacitated most of the brawlers. The rest stared at her in awe. She looked down and saw that she'd frozen Ernesto as well.

Apparently this meant Hermione was now the top fish in his establishment.

John stumbled out of a corridor. "Hermione! Thank Merlin I've found you! There's a bar fight going on and we should get going n – ". He finally noticed the incapacitated men around Hermione's feet. "Oh."

"Yes, we _should_ get going. How about going to the Savoy instead?" Hermione said nervously, smoothing her hair and dress.

"Whatever my lady desires," he responded, holding his arm out for her gallantly.

She stepped daintily over the bodies as if they were just unfortunate beings that happened to simultaneously trip in front of her at the same time.

As they strode out of the bar, the clapping started hesitantly before growing into all-out applause. The last thing she saw was Malfoy's impassive face as he held the unconscious beauty in his arms.

#

There was only one thought running through his head. Shifting his hold on the fainting woman in his arms, he stared after her.

_After seven long years of slumber, the true Hermione Granger has finally reawakened._

* * *

><p><em>Please review and tell me what you think so far? :)<em>


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

"She probably thinks she's all that," Draco sneered as he tossed his unconscious date on her bed. "Storming off in a blaze of glory. But only I will know..." He trailed off at the sound of a key being inserted into the front door.

A towering man with greying hair stepped inside, dusting his coat as he did so. Then, he looked up and blinked at the complete stranger standing in his home.

"Who are you?" he demanded angrily. "And why are you beside my wife's bed?"

Draco thought quickly. Damn, he'd gotten himself into these types of situations too many times. "Your wife has nothing but a normal cold. Right now she's resting, but you need to make sure she takes plenty of fluids for the next few days."

"...Oh." The man's chest deflated and he shrugged as if embarrassed. "Well, thank you, doctor. Our fireplace is in the next room if you want to floo back to the hospital."

Draco stormed to stand among the ashes, his mind whirling. _Another liar_. She'd told him she'd been divorced for 2 years. Women were all liars. But he needed to get married soon, and to a rich woman, if he wanted to save his company.

Why did women have to be so manipulative?

Being a Slytherin, he'd told a fair amount of untruths throughout his life. He should be used to it by now.

For example, there was that lie he'd told Granger back in Seventh Year. The one about ratting her out if she didn't meet him every week.

The truth was, he'd been lonely. He'd wandered the halls at night, cloaked with an ancient charm, and often ended up in _his_ section of the library. It'd been his sanctum, his peace, until she'd invaded it with her bright, inquisitive nature.

The time the first midnight meeting had been scheduled to occur, he'd waited impatiently in his chair. He'd brought his Arithmancy homework for her to do, as he desperately needed better marks for that course.

But a part of him had argued that that wasn't the reason he was so set on seeing her at all. That night he'd encountered her in this forbidden space, she'd shown a side of herself that he'd never seen before. Something fierce...and beautiful.

Of course, that hadn't changed the fact that she was a filthy Mudblood. Or the fact that he'd hated her with a passion. They were _meant_ to be enemies.

So why had he felt such excitement at her arrival at last?

She'd thumped her bag down with a temper and held her hand out. He raised an eyebrow, surprised. She'd already assumed he'd make her do his homework for him.

It made him feel predictable. And as he'd told himself, he needed to uphold his reputation as a Slytherin.

"We're playing a game of Wizard's chess tonight," he'd said abruptly, reaching for his bag where his chessboard and pieces were. He'd thought to amuse himself while she worked away at his Arithmancy.

She'd looked at him incredulously. "You can't be serious. I took the risk to come here, just so we could play _chess_?"

"Here's the deal, Mudblood. I win, and you have to come back here next week, an hour earlier. You win, and you're free. You can stop coming if you so wish."

She'd started shaking her head, and for a heart-stopping moment, he thought she'd refuse.

"Fine, Malfoy. Let's get this over with," she snapped, and flung herself into the opposite chair.

He'd been playing ever since he'd learned at the tender age of 4, but she was a worthy opponent. He'd found himself grudgingly admiring her intelligence and her intuition on what moves he would make.

"Pawn takes Knight," Hermione'd smirked as her white pawn bumped his black knight off the board.

He'd stifled a smile, enjoying himself. _Of course, it wouldn't do for her to know that._ "Rook takes Pawn," he said, watching with a poker face as her triumphant pawn got knocked off as well.

"You left your queen vulnerable to attack," she'd pointed out.

"Ah, so you've failed to spot my ambush three moves ahead," he said, smirking at her astounded face once she realised.

She'd narrowed her gaze at him. _Bring it, Granger_.

She played with an open aggressiveness but could become very defensive if one of her pieces was endangered. He noticed that she had an aversion against sacrificing a pawn for the greater good.

And he could tell that _she'd_ been noting his weaknesses: the fact that sometimes he could be too impulsive and impatient, preferring to set plans in action only 3 or 4 moves before it could be completed.

They'd been so evenly matched in skill and wits, that the match had lasted into the wee hours of the morning. Then, sometime after the clock struck four, they'd reached an impasse.

She couldn't checkmate his King without simultaneously leaving her King open to his rook. And since the whole point of the game was to take out the other King, they could not continue.

He'd leaned back, thrilled with her. Hating her. _She was never supposed to intrigue him like this._

She'd raised her brows at him. "Now what?"

He'd adopted an air of aristocratic insouciance. "Since this game has reached an impasse, you must come back next week to start a new one. We'll keep playing until one of us wins. You may go back now."

He'd waved his arm at her dismissively, as he'd seen his mother do to the house elves. To the most scrutinizing spectators, he would've seemed uncaring.

When he'd been missing her company before she even left.

He clasped his forehead as he arrived home and sank into his favourite armchair. Seeing _her_ had made those deeply buried memories surface, when he thought they'd stay hidden forever. After seven years of suppressing the past...

Leaning back, he closed his eyes, resting them for what seemed to be only a second.

#

Bright morning light streamed into his room, illuminating the accounting book resting under his hand. He frowned. _How had that gotten there?_

He opened the pages, flipping almost excitedly to the last one she'd written on. And as he watched, words began to miraculously appear.

_The date went wonderfully, except for a small bungle in the beginning._

He grinned. Only her.

**What happened?**

_I tried out your advice maybe a bit too enthusiastically. He'd wanted to take me to the Savoy, but I suggested The Stripped Wand instead._

**Why in blazes would you do that, woman? That's the place where men take their guilty little pleasures, not their girlfriends.**

_What do you mean?_

**I mean, that's where men take **_**experienced**_** women, if you catch my drift. The kind that you can just fuck one night and leave the next day without inciting offence.**

_WHAT? That's terrible! John would never do that!_

**That's beside the point. But if that's all that happened...**

_Well, I got in the middle of a bar fight._

He got that uncomfortable feeling in his chest once again, as if he was on the urge of an unwelcome realization.

**I hope you pretended to swoon, because that is the ideal thing for women to do in those circumstances.**

_Well, I kind of...stormed in and knocked out all the men in the bar._

It really was kind of funny, how Jane and Granger seemed to be equally aggressive when attempting to get something they wanted.

**You're supposed to faint, so that he has a chance to rescue you. Men quite like to feel powerful and able to protect their women, you know. It goes back to the age of the cavemen.**

#

Hermione spewed out the cup of Orange Peko tea she was drinking, nearly choking in her laughter. _Cavemen? _Seriously...

Well, it kind of made sense when she thought about it.

_Well, he seemed a little impressed with what I did, so no harm, no foul._

**When is the next date...if he didn't run off screaming already?**

_Hur hur hur. So funny. He's taking me to the Royal Opera House in two weeks to see Mozart's Cosi fan tutte._

**Ah, the opera that translates into "Women are like that". Very fitting in this situation.**

_Must you always generalise on the characteristics of each gender? Not all men are as cynical as you make them out to be, and not all women so manipulative._

**But, aren't they?**

Hermione could feel sadness and a kind of helpless anger coming from those words. It was as if he believed that things had always been like this, and would always be like this.

_No. _

She winced at her own hypocrisy. After all, wasn't she portraying herself as someone she wasn't truly just so she could get John?

_Is it because you once had an earth-shatteringly bad relationship?_ She wrote, trying to change the subject.

**I wouldn't have called it a relationship. That would imply that both parties are involved. That both parties had risked something to be together.**

_How long ago was this?_

**Seven years ago.**

* * *

><p>For some reason, I find it more enjoyable to write about their past rather than the present day plot :P<p> 


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Harry heard a small shuffling sound one of the storage rooms and was just about to investigate when the Chief Healer stumbled out, dusty and dishevelled.

"What were you doing?" he asked suspiciously. As the Head Auror, he had a right to look into any strange occurrences.

"Oh, just searching for an old recipe for a Healing Potion," said the Chief Healer cheerfully before heading away.

There was something in the air. Healers in this Department didn't have to brew potions; they had specified potion brewers in another Department to do it for them. Obviously, the Chief Healer was up to something, and he'd have to look into it.

But for now, he was late to a meeting. Hurrying down the corridors and ignoring the nurses batting their lashes at him, he cursed Malfoy good naturedly.

The two had always been rivals in their Hogwarts days. None of that had changed. But what had was the fact that they were no longer so antagonizing to one another. After the War, Malfoy had somehow changed.

Harry suspected it'd been something to do with Hermione, but he hadn't wanted to pry. At the time, she'd still been heartbroken over Ron and needed time to herself. And while he'd always suspected there'd been more to the curt words that Hermione and Draco had exchanged throughout the year, it was hardly the right time to ask.

In any case, their rivalry had come to the point of placing irritating obstacles in each others' lives. This time, entirely without ire. Malfoy had become the main weapons and devices provider for their Department, and since Harry was the Head Auror, they shared a mutual respect for each other. But that didn't stop Malfoy from placing small tricks and booby traps inside the devices he created for Harry. None were harmful to Harry; instead they were always helpful in dangerous situations, but it always scared the hell out of him when something unexpected happened. Like that time he'd thrown a small Stupefying grenade during that secret mission and instead, it had created a cloud of irritated, magically enhanced mosquitoes that then demolished the enemy.

Naturally, he had to get back at him. He'd bought one of those "relationship charms" from a rather skeevy Charm store and snuck it in one of Malfoy's business books during one of his visits.

Apparently it was supposed to link him to his "one true love", but seeing the store he got it from, he doubted it. But still, it'd get a rise out of Malfoy once he found out what it was for.

Imagining the face Malfoy'd have when he realised his "nemesis" placed a love charm in his ledger book made Harry chuckle with dark amusement.

#

Hermione tossed and turned in her bed. She couldn't stop thinking about what her Casanova had told her.

He'd fallen for someone who'd scorned him. Well, at least that was what she'd picked up from the vague hints and wording he'd given her.

How terrible to become so cynical simply because of a single instant in time, a single action that'd occurred seven years ago.

She closed her eyes, and before she knew it, she was dreaming again...

#

"You came back." It was a flat statement accompanied by the stiffest poker face she'd ever seen. Yet, somehow, she gotten the idea he'd been waiting anxiously for her.

"Of course. I want to finish this. _Now_."

He'd raised a laconic brow. "You've no idea how many women have said that to me."

"And I'm deeply grateful for that," she'd shot back, refusing to be embarrassed by the innuendo.

He'd tsked. "Jealousy doesn't suit you well, Mudblood. But I assure you, I _will_ win this match. I'm a chess Grand Master. Why not just agree to come back every Monday to save yourself the humiliation?"

"Because _I_ am also a chess Grand Master. The only female Grand Master left in England."

His face gave nothing away as he'd absorbed this new information. She gave herself a mental kick. _Why did I just reveal that to him? I could've used it to my advantage!_

After they'd set the board, they'd played with intensity, each pushing their own boundaries to defeat the other. She'd come up with strategies more complex than any she'd used before, and she could tell she was challenging him as well, forcing him to think out each move instead of his regularly impulsive play.

And just after midnight, they'd reach an impasse. Again.

After staring at the board in an almost comical display of surprise, he'd shaken his head. "How long have you been playing?"

She'd also been staring at their pieces, wondering where she'd gone wrong. _Why are his strategies so effective, as if he _knows_ my next move?_

"My grandfather taught me when I turned eight. He'd told me every person needed to know the game in order to avoid getting cheated in life."

"He was right."

She'd looked up, amazed. "My _Muggle_ grandfather was right?"

He'd averted his eyes, changing the subject. "Come back here next Monday, at the usual time. This isn't over."

But she stayed firmly seated in her armchair. For some reason she couldn't fathom, she actually _wanted_ to stay a bit longer. To talk to him about chess.

There were facets of Draco Malfoy she'd never known of. And for the first time in her life, she'd felt a grudging respect for him.

Oh, the horror.

But she'd been forced to admit that there was no way she could ever challenge herself like this with Harry and Ron. Harry was always too busy with the stress of so much responsibility placed upon him and Ron...well, he didn't know the difference between a pawn and a Queen.

"Who taught you chess?" she'd asked, tilting her head to the side.

"My mother. Like you, she was also a Grand Master at the game, and she wanted me to be able to hold my own."

"I never knew Narcissa Malfoy was one of the female Greats. In fact, she's not on any of the records..."

And so they'd talked on; about chess, with hidden parallels that pertained to their personal lives. Parallels that none but a Grand Master could weave and recognize. She'd never experienced such an intricate conversation, each word layered with a thousand different meanings.

#

She woke up in a cold sweat. Casanova sounded too much like _him_. And the fact that his tragedy had happened seven years ago...the coincidence had caused her memories to come back even stronger, haunting her dreams.

When she'd wandered outside for a glass of cold water, she'd encountered Ginny coming out of her room, a small scroll clutched in her hand.

"Ginny? Is everything alright?"

The redhead rubbed her eyes wearily. "What am I supposed to do, Hermione? He wants to have dinner with me in a couple of days. Why is he doing this? It's been _months_ since he's even bothered speaking to me and now he wants to have dinner?"

"Harry?"

She nodded, dropping her head into her hands. "Does he want to make this worse for me? Humiliate me? Show how little he needs me? Fine. I'm going to go to that dinner if it kills me."

"And _why_ would you do that?"

Ginny smiled a dangerous smile, straightening to her full height. At times like these, she could have passed for a Spartan warrior princess.

"I am going to go to that dinner. _And I'm going to bring Damon with me."_

"Damon?"

"Yup, he's a friend of mine at work. And don't look at me like that, Hermione. It's not like that. He's a very good friend, and that's all."

"Then why exactly are you dragging him into this pseudo-date?"

"Because he has the one of the most established reputations in this area for being a stud."

Hermione's mouth dropped open, her own problems forgotten for the moment. "So let me get this straight. You're bringing your own personal stud...on a date...with your ex-boyfriend."

"My personal _renowned_ stud."

"_Renowned _stud? You'll crush Harry!"

"_Perfect._"

#

The next day, Draco looked up to see Alina perch on his desk like she always did. Of course, this meant nothing good.

"What's wrong?" he asked cautiously.

"One of your engineers realised that for a prototype he wants to make, he needs the designs for the old crank-operated thingy to confirm the mechanics of it."

"Crank operated thingy?"

She shrugged nonchalantly. "Go ask him. In any case, it means another trip to the Ministry for you! Don't think I haven't noticed how _cheerful_ you were when you came back from your last visit there."

"Malfoys are never _cheerful_. We are tactfully pleased."

She raised her eyebrows suggestively. "So...who's the lucky lady there?"

"Wh-W_hat_? Did Blaise spike your pomegranate juice with Firewhiskey again?"

"Come now, Draco." She leaned forward as if in confidence. "I'd like to believe we're friends, and friends tell friends certain things. Like the fact that you saw a particular lady there that's different from all the others you've been bedding and discarding."

"In your mind, everything's a soap opera. Reality check: I don't have _time_ for a 'lady' if I want to save this company."

"Think what you want. And don't think I haven't seen you scribbling in that dusty old book of yours. There's something going on, and I'll find out." She hopped off and started away.

"There's nothing to find out!" Draco called to her receding figure.

So why was he feeling a true sense of panic?

* * *

><p>I'm just itching to write the time when Hermione and Draco finally find out about one another! But there has to be many many more chapter before that :(<p>

On tthe other hand, is there a version of vodka in the Harry Potter books?


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

_Approximately seven years ago…_

"What do you want to do?" she asked, looking up at bright stars set against a clear night sky. "I mean, after we graduate from Hogwarts."

He turned to glance at her. Her curls were scattered over the shingles of the Astronomy Tower's roof, which they had snuck onto after another intense game of chess.

"I don't know." His father wanted him to join the Dark Lord, but he had had other dreams for himself…especially after he met a certain brunette and realized that everything he'd been taught from birth wasn't true.

She rolled over to face him and grinned. "You'll be good at whatever you do."

"How do you know?"

"I figured it out after we end up with an impasse every chess game."

He rolled his eyes. "Did you just pretend to compliment me when in fact, you're complimenting yourself? You just insinuated that _your _chess playing is the highest standard anyone can be held against."

Hermione sat up and shoved him playfully. "I'm not full of myself like you are, ferret."

"I'll tell you who looks like a ferret. Parvati Patel."

"Malfoy! That's so rude! And she does not!"

"Well, she's been scurrying around like a ferret. Haven't you noticed yesterday in Divination? She kept staring at the both of us like we were going to go mad and _Crucio_ everybody."

Hermione shivered in the brisk night air. "Maybe she had a vision of the future about you or me. Wha-what are you doing?"

She found herself being pressed into his hard chest, with a warm arm around her waist.

"You're cold," he said gruffly. When she glanced up at his face, he was refusing to look at her, staring up at the stars.

She smiled secretly to herself as she pressed closer. "Well, what do you think Parvati saw about you and me?"

#

_Present day_

Hermione peered anxiously up the alleyway of Knockturn Alley. It was dusk, and this was the time when the more...unsavoury characters of the Wizarding World came out to do their business. Unfortunately, it was also the time that the Potions shop she needed to visit opened.

She smoothed her rumpled shirt over her bound chest, wondering if she looked mannish enough. The proprietor of the Higard Potions ship was rumoured to be exceedingly mysoginistic. He refused to sell to any woman who was not accompanied by a _male_ authoritative figure. She'd considered asking Harry to go with her, but tonight was Ginny's dinner with him and she didn't want to intrude. Merlin knows those two needed time alone together. _Without the stud_.

As she finally gathered up the courage to step forward into the rough cobblestone road, she was immediately pushed here and there by uncaring pedestrians. A chill ran down her spine; she sensed that she was somehow being watched.

However, when she craned her neck around, all she could see were darkly cloaked, anonymous figures.

When the store`s chimed rang as she pushed open the door, she jumped.

``Who`s there?" A gruff voice growled from somewhere above her. She'd heard from a colleague that the storeowner had been a prisoner at Azkaban before he'd been released for a small technicality.

"I'm looking to buy some Smythian lizard claws," she said, making her voice low as possible.

"Ye got a cold or somethin'?" A pair of cold blue eyes stared out from the dim corner.

Before she could answer, a pair of large hands shot out and roughly prodded her bound breasts. "We've got another one!" shouted a surprisingly high pitched voice from behind her.

She jumped and twisted away from the house elf behind her, who'd been perched on a table.

"We don't have any of whatever you want, now get out," snarled the voice from above. "Finkle, show the chit out, will ya?"

"Now wait here," Hermione protested, "all I need is – "

"I don't care what you need, get out!"

"But – "

"My ex-wife didn't care what _I_ needed, did she? No, she just _had _to go behind me back and – "

"Who're you complaining to now, Gerb?" drawled a familiar voice from the back. "Trying to flirt with the customers again?"

She squinted towards the back. "_Malfoy_? Why are you always...why do I always have to bump into you?"

"Are you sure you didn't plan this visit, knowing I'd be here?" whispered his voice from just beside her. His breath stirred her hair and caused a shiver to run down her back.

She jerked away from him and irritably brushed away some of the house elves which were still trying to push her out the door. "Of course not, you arrogant ass! I'll gladly get out as soon as I get my Smythian lizard claws."

"My oh my. The preachy schoolmarm said _ass_." Then there was that utterly infuriating chuckle that somehow managed to make her do things she'd be sorry for later.

For this was one of those times that Hermione got one of _those_ ideas. The kind she'd regret acting on for years to come. "Hey, Gerb! I see you know Malfoy here! Aren't you angry he didn't introduce his wife to you yet?"

A long pause punctuated with harsh breathing. And then ," ...Yer married?"

It was one of those rare instances that Draco was struck dumb.

"Yes, yes he is," Hermione said determinedly. "And now that my _husband_ is here, could I get those claws now? I really need them."

A second later, a packet of claws was pressed into her hands. When she tried to pay, Gerb objected from his hiding place up top and said ," No charge for the new mistress. Consider it a wedding present. Now get out."

They were shoved unceremoniously out onto the street. Hermione blinked, her eyes adjusting from the darkened interior of the shop to broad daylight.

Beside her, Draco cursed as the _Wizardry and Accounting _book fell out of the briefcase he'd been carrying. The book fell open onto a page with a conversation between him and Jane. Before he could pick it out however, she'd swooped down and retrieved it.

She frowned in confusion as she glanced briefly at the pages. "Malfoy, why in the world does the book have _my _handwriting in it?"

#

_Meanwhile, at the Savoy…_

"Okay, Damon, you just have to be your usual stud self," Ginny whispered to the blond man behind her.

He rolled his light blue eyes. "Seriously Gin, first of all, I have no idea what a _stud_ is even supposed to be, if not a horse."

"Ju-just be sophisticated and attractive and adventurous and wonderful and creative and awesome all at once!" she said, running out of breath towards the end.

"That's a tall order to fill, but I'm sure the bloke we're meeting now will fulfill any requirements you set." He nodded towards a table by the far window through the leaves of a potted plant the two of them were hiding behind.

Ginny peered around slowly and suddenly jerked back. "Crap! He's here and we made eye contact! Now remember, be sophisticated and attractive and ad-"

"Yeah, whatever. You won't need me towards the end."

"What do you mean?" she gasped as he pushed her out from behind the plant.


End file.
